


And Possibly I Like the Thrill

by singingintheshower48



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ballet Dancer Yuri Plisetsky, Eavesdropping, Loud Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Otabek is a tease and also a giant perv, Photographer Otabek Altin, Rimming, Yuri suffers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingintheshower48/pseuds/singingintheshower48
Summary: Otabek and Yuri have some very loud neighbors, but Otabek has always been one to look on the bright side.





	And Possibly I Like the Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> I put this on tumblr a while ago, so I figured it was time to put it up here as well. Anyway, Yurio is 19 and the age differences are all as they are in canon so leggo. I hope you enjoy and please leave any constructive feedback you have! Title from an e. e. cummings poem.
> 
> Warnings: Kind of voyeurism, but like accidental voyeurism that’s just eavesdropping

“Let me go,” he demanded

“No.”

“Beka,” he snarled, “this isn’t a joke.”

“That’s the point, Yura. I’d rather not have to visit you in prison if you commit murder.”

“They’d deserve it,” Yuri argued. He squirmed in Otabek’s arms, but the other man just tightened his grip. “Who do they think they are? They have neighbors! Neighbors who have to get up early. Neighbors who don’t want to hear them screw every damn night!”

Otabek had thought it'd be nice to have another gay couple living next door to them. Fewer looks, a way to get into the scene in St. Petersburg. And Yuri, naive fool that he was, had actually agreed with him. Then they’d learned the truth. Their neighbors were horny animals. Loud horny animals.

“Don’t exaggerate, Yura. It’s not every night.”

“Four times a week, at least. This is the third time this week and it’s only Wednesday. We could move,” his voice rose in volume as the thumping and moaning coming through their living room wall increased. 

“We’ve only been here two months,” Otabek reasoned, looking far too amused for the situation. “We have a lease, you know.” 

“They’d understand,” Yuri countered, fully aware of how desperate he sounded and not caring. “If we just explained—“

“Viktor, fuck yes!” The rest of Yuri’s plea turned to a roar when he was interrupted by a loud moan. Otabek jerked Yuri back against his chest as he struggled again to break free of his grip.

“Beka, let go. Now. We’re going back to Plan A. Finish them.”

“It sounds like they're about to take care of that themselves,” Otabek said dryly, arms not budging. Luckily, he seemed to be right. Both men next door let out long cries before finally falling silent. 

“You’re as bad as they are,” he scoffed, relaxing a little into his boyfriend’s chest in relief. 

“You like it,” Otabek insisted, nipping at his neck, hands drifting from his waist to his hips. Yuri didn’t have an argument against that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Yuuuuuri!” Yuri flinched at the chipper voice coming in from his left. He steadfastly ignored the silver-haired man bounding past him, just as he’d been ignoring the black-haired one at the mailbox beside him. He was just here for his and Otabek’s mail. He could do that without committing homicide, right?

“Yuuri, I missed you,” the grinning idiot cooed in accented English as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend from behind. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe postage did require murder. 

“You just saw me at practice, Viktor,” the dark-haired foreigner lilted softly. Yuri snatched their mail up, unable to stop himself from shooting a glare at the couple. Honestly, they were disgusting. He almost preferred the sex noises to this. The small one—Yuuri, the Imposter with his name—was blushing lightly, shooting the real Yuri an awkward glance. “And keep your voice down, you’re disturbing other people.”

“Who?” Viktor glanced around, looking every bit the buffoon he was as he noticed Yuri. How unobservant could you get? “Oh, hi neighbor!” he chirped in Russian, “You’re half of 4B, yes?”

Yuri growled under his breath, slamming the mailbox shut. “What’s it to you?” he snapped in English so they would both understand him and understand their interaction was not wanted. He could practically hear Otabek tutting in his ear for being rude. He also didn’t care. The other Yuuri looked taken aback at his tone but the tall dolt was undeterred.

“You’ve lived next to us almost 3 months and we don’t know anything about you! I’m Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, and this beautiful flower is my husband Yuuri.” He actually had the audacity to look cheery. Who did he think he was, trying to make small talk when Yuri knew what noises he made while getting his dick sucked? 

Flower Boy was bright red now. “Vitya, don’t say things like that!”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re far more lovely than the cherry blossoms in your hometown, so why shouldn’t everyone know it?” If anyone could die of embarrassment, Yuri was pretty sure his Japanese counterpart would be in mortal danger at the moment. He looked so scandalized Yuri almost felt bad for him. Almost. He’d be more inclined to sympathize if he hadn’t heard how shameless the faker was in bed. And on couch. And everywhere else in their damn apartment. And where did they get off starting a conversation and then ignoring him, anyway?

“I know who you are!” he spat, saving the stuttering brunette from coming up with an answer. “The walls here are thin, you know. Plus Flower Boy here stole my name and his junk mail’s always getting mixed up with mine.”

Recognition flashed across The Dolt’s face instead of the embarassment Yuri had been hoping for. 

“You’re Yurio!” he said gleefully, releasing his partner and stepping toward Yuri. For a horrifying second he was afraid The Dolt was going to hug him.

“Excuse me?” He hissed, taking a step back for safety.

Flower Boy put a placating hand on The Dolt’s shoulder to stop his approach. “Ah, Viktor came up with the name,” he hastened to explain, sounding apologetic. “To differentiate us.” 

“Hai!” The Dolt nodded, that dopey grin still on his face. “Yurio, you and your partner should come over to our place for dinner sometime.”

Yuri was seeing red. “What?” 

Flower Boy said something sharply in a language Yuri didn’t understand. The Dolt apparently understood though, as face fell suddenly in response. 

“Da, sorry,” he said. “You just act so familiar, like a couple would. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“What are you on about?” Yuri seethed. “We are a couple, you moron! But we’re not having dinner with you shameless perverts!” he stomped off before either man could say another word to him.

“What do you suppose he meant by the thin walls comment?” he heard The Dolt ask behind him. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“I met our neighbors today,” he brought up bitterly over their takeout dinner on the couch.

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “The loud boyfriends?”

“Husbands,” Yuri rolled his eyes. "They’re married and old and every bit as disgusting as their sex noises imply." 

“Because they’re in love?” Otabek pressed with a small frown. “We’re in love, and you don’t call us gross. Usually.” 

“Because they’re idiots,” he corrected. “Viktor—the one with the dyed hair—is an embarrassing sap and the Name Stealer puts up with him and can’t string together two words without blushing.” 

Otabek set his now empty take-out box on the floor. He scooted over on the couch to drape an arm over Yuri’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have expected someone so vocal about his needs to be shy.”

Yuri snickered, setting his own food aside and settling into Otabek’s side. “Right, who’d have thought either of them had any shame? The Dolt makes up for Flower Boy’s bashfulness though.”

“Flower Boy?”

“It’s a gross story that I don’t feel like going into right now.”

“Fair enough,” Otabek conceded, nuzzling his face into Yuri’s hair. Yuri sighed, tilting his head up in silent request. Just as their lips brushed and he thought he could put the whole thing out of his mind, it started.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he spat as the first sighs and whimpers drifted through the wall. Otabek snorted, burying his head in Yuri’s neck. “It’s not funny. I know which one is which now!” 

Otabek’s head perked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Really? Which one is that?” he tilted his head toward the wall as a throaty groan met their ears.

He looked at Otabek in disbelief, then huffed when the dark-haired man just quirked one side of his mouth up in expectation. 

“That’s The Dolt—Viktor.” he corrected at Otabek’s raised eyebrow. 

As if in confirmation, the deep voice continued.

“Shit Yuuri, just like that.” Yuri felt his face heat up in a mix of embarrassment and outrage. It never got less weird hearing his name said by someone other than his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was still looking at him with that suspicious spark in his eyes. 

“What do you think they’re doing tonight?” Otabek’s question shocked him out of his embarrassment. 

“What?” he hissed.

“You’ve never wondered? It must be fun, they obviously enjoy themselves. And it must be worth it if they go at it as often as they do at their ages.” 

“No I don’t wonder!” Yuri may have shrieked, but he was beyond silly things like voice modulation. “Why do you wonder?” 

The Kazakhstani man’s eyes flashed from amused to dark. Yuri knew that look. That look always got him into trouble. He gulped, and Otabek moved in close to whisper in his ear, lips brushing the shell with every word. 

“It’s a little…erotic, don’t you think?” Right on cue, a loud thump like a hand slamming against the wall and a string of Russian curses filled their living room. 

“I-I—“ Yuri stuttered at the feeling of Otabek’s teeth lightly scraping his earlobe. “I hadn’t thought about it.” A soft chuckle had his defenses rising abruptly. “Are you fucking with me?” he demanded. He started to pull away from Otabek, but the dark-haired man grabbed his hand and brought it to his lap.

“See for yourself,” Otabek murmured.

“Shit,” he gasped. “You’re not kidding.” He gave a light squeeze to Otabek’s hard cock right as a breathy, higher pitched moan sounded from next door and felt it twitch. 

“Maybe it’s because you share a name,” Otabek panted, lifting his hips into Yuri’s hand. “But hearing them makes me imagine what they could be doing over there. Especially when they’re descriptive.” He reached a hand out and threaded his fingers through Yuri’s hair. He tugged just enough to get a soft moan out of the younger man. “It makes me imagine doing those things to you. Sucking you off while Viktor sucks Yuuri off and hearing you both moan at the same time.” 

Yuri shuddered at the thought. Then two desperate cries echoed around them and Otabek tugged his hair and twitched under his fingers and Yuri fucking whimpered. The moaning grew progressively higher pitched and Yuri surged forward to capture Otabek’s lips in a searing kiss. Their tongues tangled and their hands roamed wildly over each other as the couple on the other side of the wall reached their peak. 

“Viktor, I’m—fuck.” Yuri’s nails raked down Otabek’s back.

“Yuuri, yes, come for me, darling,” Otabek gripped one of his hips so hard he could already tell it was going to bruise. 

Yuuri cried out his release next to their ears and Viktor followed soon after. He gripped Otabek hungrily as their moans subsided, but Otabek’s kiss softened and he pulled back despite his attempts to follow. 

“Think about it,” Otabek rasped. He disentangled himself from Yuri’s arms and walked awkwardly toward the bathroom. 

“I—what? You’re leaving me like this?”

The smirk was back on Otabek’s face and he paused in the door to the bathroom. “Yes. Otherwise you won’t think about it.” Then he closed and locked the bathroom door, only a chuckle answering Yuri’s cursing. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Yuri thought about it. He thought about it a lot. He thought about it that night while he leaned against the bathroom door, jerking himself off hard and fast, the sounds of Otabek’s grunting audible even over the shower. He thought about it the next morning in the studio. Instead of focusing on penchés and perfecting his hortensias, he felt his dance tights rub against the bruises on his hips and hoped his hard on wasn’t scandalously visible. He thought about it the next evening too, when Otabek was off at a photoshoot out of town and all he had was the sounds of his neighbors and a toy deep inside of him to get him off. It was all he thought about for fuck’s sake.

He was still thinking about it the day after that when he ran into the other Yuuri at the front door. Damn it. He was going crazy, and the clueless asshole had the audacity to smile at him.

“Hi, Yurio. Um, Yuri, sorry," he corrected himself quickly, that easy blush coming to his face. Yuri imagined it spreading down his neck and chest while Viktor—dammit, now he was the one blushing. 

“Um, hi,” he said. Did he just squeak? Pathetic. He hoped to avoid further embarrassment by taking the stairs up to the fourth floor, but no such luck. Yuuri followed him past the elevator with a questioning look. 

“Do you mind? I always feel lazy taking the elevator.” Yuri just nodded. He didn’t know what might come out of his mouth if he tried to talk. Probably something wildly inappropriate like asking Yuuri’s favorite sex positions. This had to stop. He didn’t even want to sleep with the Flower or his crazy husband. Sure, they were decent looking, attractive even, but they were old and stupid and Yuri loved Otabek. Otabek, who put these crazy ideas in his head in the first place, damn him. Ideas like what his namesake’s husband might look like with his mouth wrapped around—

“Yuri,” the Japanese man blessedly pulled Yuri from his spiraling thoughts. “I wanted to apologize for Viktor. I know he can come on strong, and he says things he shouldn’t, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Yeah, sure. I wasn’t really offended. He seems like too much of an idiot to actually mean anything. No offense.” 

Flower Boy just laughed, a light, pleasant laugh. This was good. this was distracting and kept his mind in appropriate neighbor territory. 

“None taken. He is an idiot,” the dark-haired man agreed, disgusting fondness behind his words. Yuri was back to wanting to vomit. But it was better than imagining his neighbor’s face while he got plowed by his husband. Or while he was plowing said husband. From what Yuri had heard, they liked to switch. Shit. Nope. Bad territory. He had to think of some PG distraction. 

“So, um…how did you two meet anyway?”

Flower Yuuri’s smile grew and stretched across his entire face and damn it if that wasn’t adorable and sickening all at once. 

“We’re athletes. Figure skaters. We’d cross paths at competitions, but we never really talked.” Yuri had to admit that he was intrigued. Their professions certainly explained how they were in shape even though they were decently older than him.

“And then?”

“I had, ah, a really bad year. I almost retired from skating. Then we met officially. Viktor, he helped me through a rough time in my life. And it turns out I helped him through some stuff too. Somewhere along the way we became…us.”

“Wow, that’s really nice actually.” Yuri was surprised to find he meant it.

Yuuri just hummed, that soft pink glow still tinting his cheeks. “And you and your…?”

“Boyfriend,” Yuri affirmed. 

“Boyfriend. How did you meet?”

Yuri hesitated. He wasn’t used to talking about his feelings, much less with strangers. Still, Yuuri had shared with him, and it was still preferable to the alternative. He steadfastly pushed those thoughts to the side.

“I dance with the ballet company across the river. Beka—Otabek, he’s a photographer for the agency that does our promotional pictures. He came out for our last show and we just started talking and now we’re here.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Yuuri said, and he actually sounded genuine. They’d reached their floor by then and were approaching Yuuri’s door. The Japanese man stepped in front of it, smiling so brightly Yuri felt a little breathless. “You should come over for dinner sometime. Whenever you’re free, that is. I’m sure you’re both very busy. But I’d like to show you that Viktor can actually be civilized.” 

“Oh, yeah sure, I’ll check with Beka,” he stuttered, not quite sure why his face was so hot. 

“Okay, well you know where to find me. Have a good night.” 

“Sure, you too?” It came out like a question. Yuri felt a bit dazed from the drastic turn his day had taken. He stood there dumbstruck as Yuuri closed the door. A cheery voice drifted through it just loud enough for him to make out.

“Yuuri! What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Not very patiently, it seems. You started without me.” 

“Well why don’t you—ah—catch up then?” 

Just like that those horribly dirty thoughts were back in Yuri’s head, just as filthy as the ones that’d plagued him the last two days. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Twenty minutes later Yuri was about to cry in frustration. Whatever Viktor had been up to when his husband arrived home must have been good, because said husband was currently giving Viktor the rim job of his life, if his pleased cries were anything to go by. Yuri’s cock was out, his shirt hiked up and pants slid down to his knees and Otabek was due home any minute and he’d tried to wait but he was late and Yuri was at the end of his rope. He whined when Viktor keened. He’d somehow had the presence of mind to grab lube before stumbling half out of his clothes, but the slick slide of his hand over his cock was just on the wrong side of not enough. He closed his eyes in frustration, trying to lose himself in the increasingly high pitched sounds coming from behind his head. Viktor was close. Yuri wished he could say the same. He was about to give up and look for his favorite toy when the door finally swung open.

“Yura, I’m sorry I’m—“ Otabek cut off with a choked sounding noise. The blonde opened his eyes, putting on his best haughty look despite his current position.

“Late?" he panted. “You better be. Will you come here and show me how sorry you are, already?” His hips canted up into his hand, a frustrated grunt falling from his mouth. The shrieking behind him reached a new height before cutting off abruptly. Garbled Russian swearing and broken phrases soon replaced them. 

“Fuck, Yuuri, you’re so good, always so good to me, shit.”

He’d never seen Otabek move so fast. He slammed the door, dropped his bags, and was down to his underwear by the time he reached the couch. The next second, Otabek was on his knees in front of him and had ripped Yuri’s pants fully off. He swatted the blonde’s hand out of the way and started jerking him off hard and fast. Yuri let out a strangled gasp at the same time as a different groan reached their ears. 

“You thought about it, then?” the Kazakhstani man asked, a dark glint in his eye. 

“No shit,” Yuri bit back. “It’s all I’ve thought about, you asshole.” Otabek grinned, removing his hand from Yuri’s cock in favor of raking his nails up his chest. Yuri threw his head back and let Otabek take off his shirt. He moaned recklessly loud when Otabek’s mouth latched onto his shoulder. An equally hungry noise announced him from the apartment next door. 

“What do you want, Yuuri?” they heard Viktor ask, his accent thick from his recent release.

“Y-your fingers,” Yuuri begged. “Please, fuck me, Vitya.” Yuri shuddered and Otabek let out a deep groan against his skin.

“You like that?” Otabek growled, mouth traveling across his chest tantalizingly slowly. “Do you want my fingers too, Yura?”

“Yes,” he choked out as Otabek dug his teeth into his nipple. In an instant Yuri was on his back on the couch. Otabek hauled one leg over his shoulder to settle between his thighs, grabbing the lube as he went. He wasted no time coating his fingers, but he went no further than brushing the slick digits against Yuri lightly.

Yuri wined, “What are you waiting f—“

A long moan cut him off. “Viktor, yes,” Yuuri hissed, causing Otabek to growl.

“I was waiting for that,” he answered darkly, instantly working his own finger into Yuri.

“Fuck!”

“Shh, Yura,” Otabek murmured. “We won’t be able to hear what to do if you’re too loud.” Yuri bit his lip, shuddering when Otabek began pumping his finger in and out at a steady pace. He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him when Otabek wiggled his finger in the way he knew drove him crazy. Next door, hungry mewls were spilling out of Yuuri’s mouth, sounding more desperate with each delicious pump of Otabek’s finger. Yuri could relate.

“Viktor,” they heard after what seemed like an eternity. “More, please.” Viktor and Otabek groaned in tandem.

“Anything for you darling.” Yuri’s dark-haired boyfriend raised an eyebrow in question, and Yuri nodded frantically. 

“Please,” he echoed as quietly as possible. A keen filled his ears at the same time as another finger pushed past his twitching rim. “Beka,” Yuri gasped, pushing up into his boyfriend’s hand. 

“Otabek’s eyes were liquid fire. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this?” His free hand gripped the knee hooked over his shoulder, nails digging in and sending chills through Yuri’s whole body. The mewls on the other side of the wall increased in frequency, and Otabek sped up his thrusts to keep in time with them. Yuri gripped the couch so hard his hands hurt, only letting the smallest, strangled sounds escape. 

“Another?” Viktor questioned, sounding sly even through the wall. 

“Yes, fuck yes.” Yuuri cried. Otabek didn’t ask this time, just waited until the telltale sounds of Yuuri accepting another finger echoed around them before adding a third of his own. The blonde bucked wildly. He reared up and grabbed the longer hair on top of Otabek’s head to smash their mouths together. Their tongues tangled and he released a long groan into Otabek’s mouth. The man above him answered in kind, thrusting his fingers right into that spot that made Yuri’s eyes roll back. 

“V-Vitya, I’m so—touch me, Vitya plea—ah!” Yuuri’s words cut off into a satisfied cry as his request was evidently granted. Yuri arched his hips, eagerly expecting to feel Otabek’s hand wrap around him. Instead, Otabek ripped his mouth away from his and pushed him back onto the cushions. The next instant, slick, wet heat enveloped Yuri’s cock. He bit down on his fist, his free hand tangling into thick hair once again. Otabek worked his mouth in time with his fingers. The brutal pace had him on the edge embarrassingly fast. 

He wasn’t alone. A frantic mix of English, Japanese, and Russian flowed continuously from Yuuri’s mouth, a sure sign he was right on the edge. With one more hard thrust, Yuuri was moaning long and high. 

“Oh Yuuri, you’re always so beautiful. So perfect like this.” At those words Otabek thrust directly into Yuri’s prostate and took his cock all the way down his throat, swallowing around him. The orgasm that ripped through him nearly dragged him to another plane of existence. He brought the hand from his mouth down to clutch at Otabek’s hair with both hands, trying futilely to anchor himself in one world. He stifled the cries pouring from his chest in the couch cushions. Otabek took everything he gave him eagerly, moaning around his cock and rubbing gently at his prostate until Yuri whimpered and twitched away in oversensitivity. Yuri shivered when Otabek withdrew his fingers and mouth, wet, filthy sounds echoing in the suddenly quiet room.

“Fuck, Yura,” he groaned, and Yuri had never seen him look so crazed— wiping a small dribble of cum from his mouth, hair sticking out in all directions, and an absolutely wild look in his eye. He reached frantically between his legs and started pumping his cock at a punishing pace. Yuri whimpered, reaching out a weak hand and propping himself shakily on his free arm to wrap his own fingers around Otabek. It couldn’t have done much, his fingers too weak and loose for any real friction, but Otabek grunted and thrust into their overlapped hands with even more vigor. With just a few pumps he was spilling over their fingers, collapsing onto Yuri’s chest with a gasp and sending them both tumbling back into the couch. They were quiet for a few minutes, Yuri absently running his fingers along Otabek’s undercut and the dark-haired man placing soft wet kisses on his chest every so often. Their neighbors were quiet, just a few unintelligible murmurs drifting through the walls. When Yuri finally remembered how to make his vocal chords work, he cleared his throat. 

“You stopped following them,” he rasped, a smug grin stretching across his face. “You weren’t supposed to blow me.”

Otabek shrugged on top of him. “I went with what felt right in the moment.” He shifted so his chin was resting on Yuri’s chest and their eyes could meet. One dark eyebrow was quirked up in challenge. “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.” 

Yuri felt his cheeks warm, unable to deny it. “Well, you’ll just have to get it right next time,” he said instead.

“So there will be a next time.”

He hummed. “You missed part one. I still have to give you a turn. Shame for you, it sounded like a spectacular rim job."

Otabek chuckled, but the hungry gleam was back in his eyes. “Is that so? So we don’t have to move after all?”

Yuri tugged Otabek forward by his hair, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips before speaking against them. “We have a lease, you know. Besides, if I get off too I guess it’s not so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ singingintheshower48


End file.
